


Hi, Guy!

by StellarLibraryLady



Series: Star Trek The Gentle Seasons Series [57]
Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies), Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Angry Leonard "Bones" McCoy, Coachella Valley Music And Arts Festival, Dancing, Explicit Language, Festivals, Hand Print, Hand Spanking, Haughty Spock, Humor, Language, Love Beads, M/M, McCoy Outraged, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, Outrageous Costumes, Undercover Missions, Voyeur James T. Kirk, assless chaps, music festivals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-19
Updated: 2020-09-19
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:55:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26012221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StellarLibraryLady/pseuds/StellarLibraryLady
Summary: Undercover McCoy and Kirk work a music festival in assless chaps and love beads.  General chaos and craziness ensue.
Relationships: Leonard "Bones" McCoy/Spock
Series: Star Trek The Gentle Seasons Series [57]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/695088
Comments: 2
Kudos: 13





	Hi, Guy!

With blazing eyes and barely contained anger, McCoy slid onto a bar stool next to Kirk and muttered in a low voice, “In all my born days, I have never been so insulted!”

"Take some deep breaths, Bones," Kirk muttered beside him as he purposely did not look at McCoy and thus draw more attention to his fuming friend. After all, they were supposed to be undercover. Their role was just to be part of the scenery, blending in but being observant while being observed as just two more partygoers in a rather bizarre setting.

But apparently someone had wanted McCoy to party a little heartier than even McCoy was willing to party. That happened occasionally for even the hard-living doctor who was hard on everyone, especially himself. Even he had his limits, and then he could act as outraged as any other self-righteous, cloistered person could.

Apparently, this was one of those times when matters had gotten too far out of hand for even McCoy. He just needed an opportunity to cool off and get his bearings back. Kirk was willing to give McCoy the time and the grounding that he needed. All Kirk had to do was to be patient, and McCoy would gain control of himself again. McCoy just had to do some more of his deep breathing.

Then Kirk grew alarmed for McCoy as he listened to him sucking in huge lungsful of oxygen in rapid succession. "But don't overdo it! You sound like you're gasping your last, as if you've got all sorts of holes in your lungs." He frowned. "And you're starting to draw loose paper toward you. Keep that up, and you're gonna look like flypaper with passing flies stuck to it."

McCoy rolled his eyes at that comment, but he kept on sounding like a broken bellows laboring to do its appointed task.

"I mean it, Bones. Next, you'll be hyperventilating," Kirk cautioned. "Try breathing normally."

"Make up your mind, damnit!" McCoy snapped, letting his breath out in a mighty rush. "Either in or out! I can't do both!" A soft rustling from his outfit accompanied his slightest movements.

"In or out of what?" Kirk asked, puzzled. "I'm sitting at a bar with no front door. Up or down off this barstool would make better sense."

"You're getting as dense as the Vulcan!" McCoy hissed. "In or out! It just means to make up your mind, that's all! Jeez!"

Kirk was still puzzled. "Why didn't you just say that then?"

"That's it! That's proof positive that you have been around the Vulcan too long!"

"I just think that you're being a little too erratic, Bones."

"Everybody's a critic today! I can't seem to please anybody!"

"Well, at least you discouraged that scrap paper that was so attracted to you," Kirk muttered, looking aside.

"Ha! Ha! Everybody's a standup comic today, too! What do you do for an encore?! Take to the stage with an acoustic guitar and try to drill out what's left of people's eardrums?! Might as well be a thousand jackhammers playing The Anvil Chorus, except each one is on a different note!"

"Goes with the territory, Bones. After all, we are at a rock festival. The music is supposed to be loud and the morals loose. It's a great place to get assaulted and insulted, so you shouldn't be too surprised about what happened."

"Well, it's all living up to its reputation!" But McCoy did try to make more of an effort to control himself. It took a couple of moments, but he slowly regained his composure. At least his eyes stopped looking like the pupils had been blown, and his breathing did improve. And the loose paper didn't even flutter with interest in his direction anymore.

"Better now?" Kirk murmured, still not looking at McCoy. To the casual observer, the only thing holding Kirk's attention was the wall behind the bar. But he was very aware of his agitated friend. Who wouldn't be, with McCoy acting so crazy and all.

"I'll live," McCoy snarled back. "Just so I can seek revenge on that slimy ass grabber!"

Back to that, Kirk thought with a sigh to himself. McCoy was a good man, but tended not to let things go too easily. His friends tolerated that trait, though, because he was great in so many other ways. So Kirk would be a friend now himself and let McCoy get some of his angst off his chest.

"Did someone get fresh out on the dance floor?" Kirk inquired and braced himself.

"Is there any other slimy ass grabber around?!"

"Hopefully not in our vicinity. You gotta cool down, Bones. For your own good. Wanna cold one?" Kirk asked, hoping that would help.

"Yes! Need you ask?!"

Kirk nodded at the barkeep, swirled his index finger, and a sweaty glass of golden beer appeared almost by magic in front of McCoy. He grabbed it and downed half of it in one gulp, but at least it got him settled down further.

Kirk glanced at the feathers and colorful beads dangling from McCoy's hair and the beaded headband that encircled his forehead. The heat of the building and from a lot of close bodies had caused sweat to pop out on McCoy's forehead. His makeup had begun to shine and even to melt in some places. Of course, a lot of McCoy's heat had been generated from the wild dancing he had just been doing up until a few moments ago, but he was also in a snit that was raising his temperature.

So now he was seated beside Kirk and trying to gain control of his composure again. His upper body was bare except for a leather vest that showcased more dangling beads and feathers, and leather thongs were wound around his upper arms and wrists. Kirk wasn't stunned or alarmed about McCoy's apparel and accessories, though, because they matched his own. They both looked like they'd just climbed off a motorcycle and were taking part in a wild gathering of crazed revelers. Which they were. But McCoy seemed agitated more than normal. And that was saying something, seeing as how he generally had something or other swirling around him that was creating a mini-tornado of angst in his corner of the universe.

“So you had to fight for your honor, Bones?” Kirk asked with twinkling eyes. "Did somebody actually try to get handsy with you?"

“You can bet your sweet ass he did! A guy was trying to feel me up while we were dancing! Guess you know how far that got him!” McCoy twisted his shoulders around as if he was trying to ward off the guy again as well as the memory of being mauled in plain sight of a huge crowd. A soft tinkling of beads and a rustling of feathers accompanied his every move. He was reminiscent of a walking wind chime and would've been soothing if he wasn't so agitated. “I thought I was gonna get raped out on the dance floor!"

"Sounds rough," Kirk noted in sympathy.

"It was! Damn handsy bastard and his creepy agenda! He had all sorts of what he considered 'interesting plans' for me! Asked if I wanted to see stars in the daytime! Swore he had equipment that made memorable impressions on elephant cows! Seems water buffalo sigh when they think of him! Bragged that he was continually stalked by lovesick rhinoceroses. Of both sexes!"

Kirk smirked. "At least he isn't shy about his endowments, or powers. He's probably leaves his elephant gun at home when he goes on safari. Takes lube instead. Killing isn't what he's after."

McCoy smirked and rolled his eyes.

Kirk continued. "He's gotta be right up there with the guy who goes bear hunting with a switch."

McCoy nodded. "That's right. Same ego." He shook his head as he remembered. "Boy, what a jerk! Said I was in luck, that he was willing to give me the treat of a lifetime, because he thought I deserved something good for a change! Said he thought I looked like I'd just come out of the rough end of a long, dry spell when it came to loving." He twisted in indignation again, to the accompaniment of all sorts of gentle whisperings from his accessories. "Just how in the hell could he tell something like that just by looking at me?! Huh?! Huh?! Just what in the hell was I advertising, anyway?! And how?!"

Kirk shrugged. "I don't have a clue, Bones, you look normal to me." He glanced at McCoy. "Outside of the beads and feathers and war paint, of course. Maybe it was just part of his patter."

"Patter?! Patter?! Patter, my sweet ass! I'd like to straighten his thinking, and his ass, out for him with my foot! Then we'll see how charming his 'patter' can be!"

Kirk smirked and he couldn't stop himself from saying it. "I think that's what he wanted to do to you. But not with his foot."

McCoy did his best old maid librarian imitation as he treated Kirk to one of his favorite glares. "As if I'd ever lie down for the likes of him! But I guess that even creeps like him wanna dream big!" He took another sip of his beading beer.

“Can you really blame him?” Kirk wanted to know in a casual way. “You really are quite a package in that get-up, especially those assless chaps and that leather vest that barely covers your rugged chest. You're advertising your wares, fore and aft. You look like you’re hot to trot. And that you came here for more than the dancing and music.”

“Well, thanks for the compliment,” McCoy reluctantly accepted, momentarily mollified. He had to admit, too, that he was looking pretty damn good, especially his beautiful behind. “But you gotta stop using that idiom,” McCoy snarled as he twisted his shoulders around again amid soft rustlings all around him.

"What idiom?"

"Hot to trot."

“Why?” Kirk wondered reasonably. “It’s a perfectly good idiom.”

"Some among us would start looking for horses, especially race horses, since they are hot to trot."

"Well, the guy who has trouble with idioms isn't with us at the moment. So you won't have to waste breath trying to explain what it means to us Earthlings."

“There's other problems with it, too. If it’s older than last year, then it’s gotta be out of date. And I know for a fact that it was being used in the Twentieth Century. So that makes your lingo about as old-fashioned as if we were riding around in a horse and buggy because we had to, and not because we wanted to. Besides, the Vulcan wouldn’t be able to understand you if you used that phrase in a sentence. Then we'd have to explain what you meant. And that would take time, time that we might not have if we have to act fast. And we gotta have everyone on the same page with this caper if it's gonna work.”

“Funny, Spock can understand me well enough when I use idioms. And speaking of idioms and Mr. Spock’s problems with them, I certainly hope that you don’t try using your last sentence on him. That will leave him mystified for sure. But I agree. We really do have to have everyone on the same page if we’re going to be successful with this caper.”

“Remind me again why we’re here? I tend to lose focus when I’m cast into dens of inequity like this one.”

“For guts and glory, Bones,” Kirk answered in pleasant tones while his sensuous eyes roamed over the noisy crowd as if he was looking for his evening’s conquest-- which he probably was. Then he focused on McCoy with razor-sharp attention, but with the seemingly still pleasant look on his face. “And because that’s our orders.” 

“Will you watch what you say?!” McCoy hissed. “I’m trying to talk without moving my lips so nobody can read what I’m saying!” His eyes roved the crowd, too. “There might be spies anywhere!”

“So that’s why you look like a dentist just shot you up with Novocaine. What are you gonna do next? Start drooling? And why? To convince all of the ‘spies’ out there that you are crazy instead of just looking it?”

“It's part of the disguise. I’m talking in my sotto voce,” McCoy hissed back.

Kirk gave him a languid, sexy look. “I love it when you talk dirty.”

“That’s not dirty!” McCoy snarled. “That’s Italian! It just sounds like there's something naughty going on when there really isn't. French can make anything sound beautiful, even if you're describing a fetid cesspool in a dung-filled cow lot. But Italian.... Italian can make that same fetid cesspool sound suggestive as hell, like you're enticing someone to take a leisurely dip in it with you. No, all that the expression 'sotto voce' means is that I’m talking in a quiet voice, because I don’t want to be overheard!’

Kirk continued in his suggestive tones. “In other words, you’re using your...” His eyes warmed several degrees as he took in McCoy’s body. “...inside voice? Because you want everything between us to be so intimate?”

McCoy did not take it as a compliment. “How can you make everything sound dirty?! Especially when it isn’t?!”

“I was thinking more about when we remind our pets to use their inside voices.”

“Somehow, that sounds worse yet. It’s sounds sexy as hell. You're starting to let this whole decadent scene of loose morals and casual sex and outlandish outfits go straight to your libido!”

“Hey, you should talk. I’m not the one with a flaming red hand print on my bare ass,” Kirk mumbled as he took a sip of his beer.

McCoy tried to look over his shoulder. “Still there, huh?”

“Like a headlight on bright beam. Or a fire on the beach on a starless night. We could use your burning ass if the light ever goes out in the lighthouse. Ships out on the ocean could see it glowing for miles.”

“Maybe I should hide it by wrapping a tea towel around my waist and letting it drape over my rump.”

“And look like you’re wearing the world’s shortest miniskirt? That would just add to the tease. Because, when you’d walk, the bottom of the towel would swish around and reveal tantalizing glimpses of your bare rump, flaming hand print and all. You’d cause all sorts of collisions from people running into each other instead of watching where they were going. Then the next thing we’d know, there would be spontaneous fistfights breaking out and women would be screaming and the music wouldn't be loud enough to cover the whole general confusion. Then the police would get called in to sort it all out. And all because of your cute little butt flashing enticing glances of the Promised Land to anybody thirsty enough to want a taste of your exotic bouquet.”

“Well, just so it’s given the recognition it deserves.”

“Oh, if your backside got the recognition it deserved, it would probably cause World War Four on Terran.”

McCoy beamed with modest pride. “Well, we in the McCoy family were always noted for our handsome bodies.”

“And well deserved. Tell me, what did that guy do that was so rude anyway?”

“His hand had slipped down my back to my waist until it was grasping my butt cheek.”

“Can’t say that I’d blame him. That’s a mighty sweet looking pair of butt cheeks that you’re packing around, and those assless chaps show them off to their best advantage. You had the attention of more than just your dancing partner. A lot of eyes were on that luscious bottom of yours.”

"Yours, too, apparently," McCoy challenged.

"I had to have the back of my partner."

"Hey, sure! That's why you were watching me so closely, I'm sure!" But McCoy was grinning, happy to be teasing his over-sexed friend. Kirk was sex on the hoof, so it was quite a compliment to be the center of attraction with him around.

"And you were doing just what you were supposed to be doing by getting in contact with someone who seemed to know what was going on behind the scenes."

"I never really got to hear very much about what I was supposed to be finding out, though. His mind was on me, instead of what I wanted to learn."

"That's why you might have to go back and engage him further," Kirk said hesitantly, knowing what kind of an explosion that might cause.

“But the guy was a lecher!"

"Just what did he do that was so wrong?" Kirk asked softly, truly wanting to know.

"I didn't mind his hand on my thigh. That happens a lot during dancing, whichever sex I'm dancing with. Hell, my own fingers have been known to anchor themselves on that spot. But that was when my partner had layers of clothing over the thigh. I had on nothing. It was just hand on my bare skin. And this guy's fingers kept wandering closer and closer to that thin strip of material over my butt hole."

"Oh," Kirk said as he straightened slightly. No wonder McCoy had been concerned.

"Yeah," McCoy said, continuing his tale. "He said he was trying to get a firmer hold on me. Finally I asked if he meant to do that by plunging his fingers a couple of inches into my ass so his hand was out of danger of slipping. And he said that he figured I was too damn tight to take anything bigger than a kid’s pinkie and then just its teeny-tiny tip before I’d holler in discomfort. Well, any way I answered that challenge was gonna reflect bad on me, so my never-fail, miffed Southern Belle persona came out. ‘Sir,’ I said with an accent so thick that not many Yankees could’ve understood it. ‘You have me at a distinct disadvantage and therefore are no gentleman.’ He grinned and said that being a gentleman wasn’t why he was dancing with me. His goal was to back me in a corner, bend me over, rip that thin strip of material away from my ass, and ruin my butt hole for any other man, either now or in the future. When I slapped his face for his crude words and intent, he slapped my ass with his open hand to show me his determination and control of the situation.”

“I gotta admit, I heard that blow from clear over here. There is nothing like the sound of bare skin getting spanked. The only thing that would have improved it would’ve been if he’d had a wet hand. Then it would’ve sizzled on your flesh. I was so turned on by those prospects that I wanted to jump up and be next in line when he got tired of punishing you. But then I saw your face and knew you weren’t really enjoying yourself, so I stayed put.”

“He was a clod. But if that's what it'll take to turn you on today, I’m sure there’s more guys around here who would be more than willing to give you whatever you’re wanting, from a thoroughly sound hand spanking to a good, hard dicking.”

Kirk’s beautiful eyes gleamed. “Gee, I love it when you try to talk dirty. It’s even better than when it’s unintentional.”

“You wanna take a turn with the lecher?! Is that what you’re wanting?! Huh?! Huh?! I’ll be happy to introduce you! You can dance with him and get your personal flaming red hand print on your own butt cheek! Then you'll be happy, I suppose! I’m sure that’s what every Starfleet Captain aims for before he retires, is it?! To get hand-spanked out on the dance floor during the Coachella Valley Music and Arts Festival! I'm sure that Federation Command will be thrilled when it learns that news about one of its finest officers!”

Kirk glanced around at the people who’d stopped dancing and talking to stare openly at the two undercover Starfleet officers sitting at the bar suddenly with more than their butt cheeks exposed.

“Thanks, Bones. I think you just destroyed whatever element of surprise we had with these people. And blown our cover all to hell while you were at it.”

"Sorry," McCoy mumbled as the onlookers gradually returned to their own affairs. "I got carried away."

"Thank goodness you're more professional in the operating room."

"I know what I'm doing there! Here, I'm more or less a prostitute for hire!"

Kirk gave him a lazy grin, his good humor restored. "And doing a very good job of it, too. You're being just exactly what you're needing to be, too. Pretty eye candy for the participants to ogle. We're just supposed to sit here and look inviting while Spock and the others do the real work of snooping around. We're bait for the trap. They'll never suspect that we're trying to get them to proposition us."

"I don't notice you trying to get propositioned very much. I figure this sort of thing would be typecasting for you," McCoy noted with a voice with a lot of accusation in it.

"Well, we're just getting started for one thing. For another, you made such a good start, I'll have to really do something to top your performance."

McCoy crossed his bare arms over his bare chest while beads and feathers shook and shimmered all over him. "Didn't join up with Starfleet to be no damn flesh peddler!"

"You don't have to peddle your flesh, Bones, just advertise it. Let them look the goods over, but that's it."

"I don't know why I couldn't be the one doing the covert searching in dark corners while Spock is out here peddling HIS flesh!"

"Come on, Bones. Think about it. Which one of you two would be more convincing as a participant of a music festival? In all those beads and feathers, Spock could pull off a wooden Indian statue in front of a cigar store quicker than a hippie. Even you gotta admit Spock would be poor type casting for what you're doing. He wouldn't be very approachable for one thing. For another, I doubt if he would look half as cute in those assless chaps as you do."

"Well, you do have a point there," McCoy agreed, reconsidering. "He didn't seem to like me wearing the chaps, either. Could I help it if I wanted to strut around and show off my figure a little to the crew before we left the Enterprise? Uhura gave me wolf whistles, and Sulu was pounding on tables, especially when I did cute little turns and dives. Scotty seemed to be watching me with new eyes, while Chekov's face was just stunned. I figured he wouldn't have been more shocked if his dear old granny back in Russia had come out dressed in a flapper's dress and doing the shimmy."

"You did seem to break some illusions for them, especially Spock."

“He doesn’t have any say! I told him that just because we’ve had a couple of dates, that doesn’t mean he owns me! Hell, we’ve never even done the big nasty! And he doesn’t have the right to think that he’s got exclusive rights to do it with me! But you know how far that got me when I told him that! He bulled up and has been giving me the silent treatment ever since! So he can just watch other guys ogle my ass and suffer in silence! It'll do him some good!”

“Bones, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to cause trouble between you and Spock.”

“It isn’t your fault, Jim. It was bound to come up soon, anyway. He’s so possessive!”

“He’s just over protective.”

“Over protective, my sweet ass! He’s just damn bossy! If he wants more say-so over what I do or how I act, he knows what he has to do! He has to put a ring on it! And I gave him that information in just those words, too!”

In spite of himself, Kirk grinned. “You used that idiom on him?! How did that work out for you?!”

“About as well as you’d expect,” McCoy muttered, suddenly subdued.

“What did you tell him when he wanted to know just where he was supposed to place that ring?”

“I could tell by the wheels turning in his head that he was considering several choices, but eliminating them one by one as being either ridiculous or unsanitary or both.”

“Wouldn’t you want him to give exclusive rights of himself to you?”

“Well, of course! But that’s different!”

“How?” Kirk asked reasonably.

McCoy frowned in thought.

“He’s probably already given himself to you exclusively in his mind, Bones.”

“But we’ve barely shaken hands! And talk about the chaste goodnight kiss I got once! Once! I hope he doesn’t ration them out like that in the future! IF we have a future, that is! And he missed my lips by a mile! Hit the corner of my mouth and quickly skidded away to a point near my left ear! My left ear lobe got excited as hell for a minute there, but that’s the only part of me that got any action that night! I think he was even afraid that he'd mussed up my hair! As if that was the part of me I'd wanted mussed up!”

“Maybe he’s just old-fashioned,” Kirk suggested.

“Maybe he’s just emotionally constipated. We all know how he is about feelings,” McCoy grumbled back, not quite won over yet even if Kirk was making some excellent points.

“But you must think enough of him to let him string you along this way.”

McCoy's face lost all sign of anger. “Hell, Jim, I don’t have a choice. I'm in a helluva mess here, when it comes to my relationship with Spock. I might not always like the guy and sometimes he drives me to utter distraction. But I think that I’m in love with him. I’m willing to give him all the time he needs, just so he eventually comes around. How’s that for crazy?”

“Spoken by someone who is truly gobsmacked,” Kirk agreed in a voice laced with fondness. “Yep, I think you must’ve stopped one of Cupid’s arrows with your unsuspecting heart.”

“You are so full of it, Kirk,” McCoy mumbled and probably would’ve been blushing if he hadn’t been wearing so much makeup.

“I’m just saying that I think you two just might have something real going on between yourselves. And you’re hurting him by not respecting his wishes.”

That riled McCoy. “How about if he trusts me a little bit?!”

"Well, there is that," Kirk had to agree.

At that moment, Spock walked up. “Captain.”

“Spock!” Kirk greeted, as it seemed he was the only one Spock was recognizing. “How goes it? I take it that the operation is over, or else you wouldn’t have walked up to us as openly as you did.”

“That is a concise evaluation of the situation,” Spock confirmed, still not glancing at McCoy. But it was quite apparent to McCoy and to Kirk that Spock was very aware of McCoy’s presence. It was well known that Spock had terrific side vision, and he now had that “pie in the face” look that indicated that he was using his side vision as much as possible. He was getting an eyeful of McCoy, but he did not want McCoy to know it.

Spock continued his report. “After Dr. McCoy’s untimely announcement as to his identity and to yours, the agenda of our planned procedure accelerated at a much faster rate than had been originally planned. The suspects, of course, had also heard that Federation representatives were covertly conducting an investigation and chose to leave the premises in different directions as quickly as possible. All of which added to the difficulty of their capture, but I am pleased to report that all have been taken into custody.” 

McCoy nudged Kirk. “I think what he’s trying to say is that after I let the cat out of the bag by blowing our cover, the shit hit the fan in a right royal way. Then the mop up got rather messy because the bad guys scattered every which way,” McCoy interpreted. He glanced at Spock. “But our intrepid Superhero here managed to round up all of the scoundrels and head them off to the hoosegow where they are now sufficiently cooling their heels. Does that about cover it, Commander?”

Spock turned to McCoy with a tight-lipped scowl of barely contained tolerance. “Yes. How quaint. Thank you for putting the details of the operation in the vernacular for us, Doctor. I am certain that Federation Command will appreciate a report written in the language of the natives of the area, even if they are located in the wilds of the state of California the same as Federation Command is. Such use of language would probably add a certain authenticity and quaintness to the report.”

McCoy shrugged. “Well, at least they shouldn’t go to sleep with my interpretation as they well might with yours.”

“Perhaps the laxness of the lifestyle expressed in your costume has caused you to speak in idioms to a larger extent than what you generally do.”

Kirk wanted to tell them to stop their pissing contest, but decided to let them play it out. The bad guys had already been rounded up. Besides, Kirk just wanted to see what would happen next between these two.

“That’s how I blended in," McCoy patiently explained. "I went native. While you-- you just stuck out like a sore thumb.”

“At least I looked dignified.”

“But I had more fun!”

“I saw how you were having fun. I nearly intervened when your dancing partner became too familiar with your person.”

"Watching, eh?" Somehow, that pleased McCoy immensely. If Spock had been watching, it meant that he was jealous.

"Yes. You did not know what a bad situation you could find yourself. You were not being careful."

Nobody likes to be called foolish, even when he is. “Don’t worry!” McCoy shook his head emphatically and a rattling of beads and feathers accompanied the gesture. “I can still defend myself!”

“If you had not dressed like that and acted as if your favors could be obtained easily, that man would not have thought that he could assault you the way he did.”

“Don’t sound sexist! Besides, it’s not any of your business!”

"Why do you say that? Of course it was my business."

McCoy's heart gave a leap. Oh, joy! Spock had been jealous all along! Wearing the whole silly outfit and getting mauled over by that handsy lecher was all worthwhile now!

McCoy blushed prettily. "Spock, that is so sweet of you to say."

Then Spock went and ruined it. Unintentionally, but still he made a mess of things.

“Sweetness had nothing to do with it, Doctor. Your behavior nearly jeopardized our mission.”

Kirk mentally hit himself in the head with the palm of his hand and wished he could do it for real to Spock. Anything to wake him up and tell him to stop acting like such a prick.

For something in the air had changed. Something had stiffened and cooled. And got thoroughly chilled. To the bone.

McCoy gave Spock a hard look. And beneath that look was a sadness and a hurting in McCoy's eyes that hadn’t been there before. “That’s all the day was to you, wasn’t it? A mission? Well, I guess that’s all it was to any of us then.” He turned and walked away.

“What happened?” asked a stunned Spock. "Why did he leave like that?"

“Do you like dating McCoy?” Kirk replied.

“What does that have to do with what is happening now?”

“Everything. I understand you went wild one night and kissed his earlobe. Way to go! But the earlobe? Here I've known you for a long time now, but didn't know you were an earlobe guy,” he teased.

“I missed his mouth.”

"Were you aiming for it?"

"I am not the most adept when it comes to the romantic arts," Spock confessed.

What an understatement! But Kirk decided to leave alone that particular can of worms for the moment.

“Didn’t you try again? To kiss him?” he asked Spock.

“Should I have?”

“See that hand print on McCoy’s butt cheek?” Kirk indicated the fading red marks on McCoy’s disappearing twinkling haunch. “Know why he got that?”

“I heard it, then I saw it. He was being saucy with the man dancing with him.”

“Know why the guy did it?”

“To humiliate him?”

“To show him that he was interested. What does that tell you?”

Spock had the grace to blush. “That the doctor likes it rough?”

“Maybe. And maybe he just needs to know if someone cares enough to make a gesture. Spock, he doesn’t want to be bullied, manhandled, or humiliated. That's not the message you should be getting here. He's a guy who needs a lot of reassurances.” He decided to make it plainer, because Spock still did not look convinced. “Reassurances from someone who is important to him.”

“Meaning?”

“His dancing partner wasn’t important to him, but someone else here tonight might be.”

Spock looked thrilled and awed. "Are you saying that I am important to him?"

"Of course, you are. And he needs to know that he is important to you." He paused for emphasis. "He needs to know you care."

It was like watching the sun come up on a clear morning. Spock's face began to glow with happiness.

"Why don't you go hunt him up and have a talk. I'll wrap up this mission."

"If you believe that it could be allowed--" Spock mumbled as his eyes were already searching the crowd in the direction that McCoy had taken.

"I know it can be allowed. Now, go on. Find McCoy. Relax a little. See the sights. Eat some carnival food. Listen to some music. You're at a world-famous music festival. Enjoy. Find out that you two can have a good time not doing anything that's very important."

Spock riveted his dark eyes on Kirk. "And if we find something to do together that is important? Should we indulge in that, also?"

Kirk gave him a mellow look. "I recommend it. Now, go, go! Before you lose track of him," he urged.

Spock took the time to smile softly. "I believe that I could find Dr. McCoy anywhere, Captain. Even if he was not wearing such revealing clothing and rustling when he walked."

Kirk sighed as he watched Spock scurrying away.

Spock probably could find McCoy anywhere. It helps when one is being led by one's heart.

**Author's Note:**

> I own nothing of Star Trek, its characters, and/or its storylines.


End file.
